Dr Sketch and his Magic Pad

Ever wondered how to find one of those pill doctors? Loose on scruples and willing to hook you up? Ask your insurance company. I just asked for a regular doc and in short the list of covered local psychiatrists the only one who could schedule within a month may just be that kind of pen happy physician. He scheduled me in two days. First clue.

Arriving at the shitty little eye soring wall hole a few minutes early for paperwork, I signed in. Just in fucking time; five more people hot on my tail checked in for the same slot and my appointment was still forty minutes late. I waited, trying not to touch anything. I went in, told him what I was taking, told him it wasn’t working. He checked his little book, checked his watch, chatted while he wrote, and chucked me out the door. Five minutes, five prescriptions. Efficiency. He’d given me the drug I requested, took me off the drug I hated, kept me on the drug I wanted, re-prescribed the drug I wasn’t taking, and started me on the stabilizing drug most noted for abuse potential. What a coincidence.

Prescriptions, at least the ones I’ve seen, come with a faint blue waves and tiny lettering elucidating the illegality of their absence. Come my second visit, he tried to drug me up on photocopied pads, failed because I’m not a retard, then proceeded to fuck up half my dosages. I was planning to go off Lamictal anyway.

Adding insult to injury, his office lacks a fax machine. What kind of (legitmate) doctor’s office can’t receive faxes? If you have an answer, please forward it to my insurance company. They needed a prescription authorized. They needed to fax it. I won’t discuss the headache it caused me. You probably already know.

I want to be clear, I’m not writing this to destroy his practice. By luck if nothing else, the regiment he prescribed, the portion I take anyway, has been the best I’ve experienced. If anything, I’m helping spread the word. I’m not a pill head, but I’m a pot head. I deplore the scheduling of substances. Spall your health, your mind, your life, it’s yours. And if my anecdotes were not enough to convince you, take a look at his business card:

Note: don’t take me seriously. I don’t want to get sued.